Duty
by Mickis
Summary: Cissnei disappeared mysteriously after Crisis Core, never to be mentioned again. I'm thinking some loose ends needs tying up. One shot.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters. Pity me.

**A/N:** _I would like to start by welcoming myself officially into the FFVII fandom. I've been a big fan since, well... since it first came out. (Would give you a slight impression of my age). And I've spent way too many hours writing fan fiction over the years. However I've never actually combined the two hobbies before now. I've read lots of FFVII fan fiction, though, so it was really only a matter of time till I sat down to type one up myself._

_I decided a one shot was the best way to go (where you don't have the pressure of updating). I've actually had this scene swimming in my head ever since I first finished the game (Crisis Core) like almost 2 years ago, so it only seemed natural it should be the first one to be put down on paper. It bothered me how they never explained just what the hell happened to Cissnei. She's one of the few female characters I actually like. (Yes, yes. I don't care much for Aerith or Tifa. I'm a horrible, horrible fan). Anyway, here's one theory of how Cissnei's story might've played out. Also, I would like to state that while dead people tend to go POOF in 'Crisis Core' and just materialize into thin air, I'm not doing that. The way I see it is that it's more like their souls or consciousness or whatever go into the Lifestream, not their actual bodies. That always kind of bugged me, so I decided to use a little creative license. Also, this isn't BETA read, so any mistake you come across is mine. That said, I hope ya like! And I would be insanely grateful if you left a review before you head on with your business.  
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**DUTY**

by

Mickis

**Genre: **Drama/Friendship**  
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**Language: **English

**Fan Fiction Rated: **T

**Summary:** _Cissnei disappeared mysteriously after Crisis Core, never to be mentioned again. I'm thinking some loose ends needs tying up._

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The rain had finally ceased, leaving the visor of her helmet clear to peer through once again. She recalled the old expression: 'After rain comes sunshine'. It seemed the words had never rung truer.

The sun was bright and forgiving behind the sparse clouds, offering some warm comfort to the back of her wet suit jacket, when in fact not long ago she had been caught in what could only be described as a massive shower. It seemed to have come out of nowhere. The looming mass of clouds in various grayscales had sealed the heavens to the point where it became so dark one would have thought it was late at night. In truth, it had only been slightly past noon when it had begun to pour. Apparently the others had been having great difficulty making anything out from the choppers. She hoped that was the case for the army as well.

She really didn't trust those half-witted army ants with a gun.

Despite the change of weather, however, the ground still remained slippery beneath the wheels. She had been forced to slow down her speed a bit to avoid loosing control of the motorcycle. The terrain was unmerciful enough as it was, rocks and gravel occasionally kicking up to ricochet off the protection window of the bike. It was a good thing ShinRa paid decent money to bulletproof the windows on their vehicles. The company was known amongst its employees for being quite cheap, or rather the President was. However the vehicles the Turks used remained miraculously untouched by ShinRa's greed. Caring for ShinRa's secrets the way they did, the President made sure his agents were pleased with their working conditions. They were even paid better than SOLDIER, known worldwide as ShinRa's pride and joy.

Staring ahead, she saw nothing but endless wasteland and puddles of water. Even the fiends were sparse, not that they would have been a problem. As long as she remained seated on the bike, there was really nothing they could do to slow down her search. Suddenly the radio sizzled to life in her ear.

"Yo, you find anything yet?" Reno. It had been a while since they had last been in contact, she realized.

"Negative," she called over the sound of the engine. "Nothing but wasteland."

"Negative?" Reno chuckled. "I love it when you're being all formal."

Cissnei decided to ignore his comment, even though she felt a frown coming over her features. "What about you?"

"Not a damn thing," came Reno's buzzing response. "Been a while since we spotted any army dudes, as well. I'm thinking that's probably not a good thing."

"Just keep your eyes open," Cissnei insisted. "I'm heading in the direction of Midgar now. I'll contact you if I find anything."

"Sure thing," he finished before the signal went dead, leaving her with the roaring sound of the engine.

She had always preferred to travel by ground, even if she was an excellent pilot. Having been raised within ShinRa like she had, she'd spent more than enough hours in the cockpit of the helicopter. But as it was, Tseng needed his Turks to spread out, and without a partner it was against protocol to ride a chopper.

But Tseng had seemed reluctant when she volunteered to take the motorcycle. It must have seemed suspicious when she came back from Gongaga all those months ago without the motorbike she'd ridden there on. But Zack had simply needed it more than she. It wasn't in the official report, of course, because who would be stupid enough to put something like that on paper?

'I felt bad for the escaped specimen, so I offered them my company vehicle.'

It wouldn't go over well, to say the least. But even though the official story was that her bike had been stolen in Gongaga, she suspected Tseng knew the truth behind its disappearance. However, even if that was the case, he never mentioned anything. It seemed her boss had chosen to simply look the other way, something she felt very grateful for. Even though she and Reno would sometimes make jokes at his expense, calling him Mr. Stoneface or remark how it was always straight down to business with him, she knew he harbored a kind of loyalty that was very rare among ShinRa's employees.

It was unspoken, of course, but she and every other Turk working under Tseng's command knew it was there.

Midgar was getting closer in the distance, the iconic ShinRa building rising out of the circle of walls like some modern day fairytale castle. A city like that really stood out in the naked nothingness that was the wasteland. Noticing something up ahead that seemed to differentiate from the puddles of water the land was covered in, Cissnei narrowed her eyes.

There was definitely something there.

Cissnei turned her gloved grip on the right handlebar slightly and continued in that direction, the sound of the engine roaring louder in her ears as she sped up. She had to slalom between a few of the larger rocks that sprouted out of the ground, water splashing up on the pants of her suit. Not that it mattered, because she already felt soaked down to the bone from the rain shower earlier. Approaching the site fast, she widened her eyes in realization of what it was.

People. Weapons.

Bodies.

There had been a massacre. Up ahead waited what seemed like the outcome of a mass execution. She hoped it was a testimony to Zack's skills as a former SOLDIER First Class, but even that thought seemed too morbid. Too many men had died out here. She had never cared much for the infantrymen, because while some of them were ambitious, most of them were immature and just joined out of boredom or for the simple thrill of it. Still, they were far too young to end up like this. Majority of them were even still in their teens. Naive, inexperienced... expendable. Nothing but a wide sea of nameless faces that no one – other than their families – would even remember.

Taking in a shallow breath to maintain her calm, Cissnei slowed her speed as she closed the last few yards in-between herself and the carnage. She pressed down on the rear brake while gently squeezing on the front, turning the bike sideways, water splashing up violently from the puddles. Cissnei put down her feet and kept a strong grip on the handlebars, her eyes traveling across the scene.

She was in shock. She had witnessed blood bath before. She had been in Wutai to help clean up the mess that was left there, but this was different. Wutai was heavy terrain and trees covering the number of dead the war had left in its trail. But this... this was completely out in the open. The bodies littered the bare landscape, just waiting for someone to come find them.

Turning the key in the ignition, the vehicle silenced instantly. She pulled her helmet off over her head – her dry, chestnut-red hair spilling down her shoulders – giving her a clear vision of what surrounded her. She couldn't help but gape at the sight.

There were so many bodies... so much blood. She had to remind herself to remain professional and do her job, but she couldn't quite estimate the total of them. Her head whipped around in slight panic. There had to be over a hundred bodies... perhaps two.

She absentmindedly swung her leg over the motorcycle, pulling down the support stand with her right foot before taking a few steps away from the bike, helmet still pinched under her arm. She couldn't do much but look, her eyes wandering on their own accord over the bodies.

Infantrymen lay sprawled all around her, their armor and weapons scattered carelessly on the still muddy ground. Some of them were lying in awkward positions, their limbs twisted in a way only death could handle. Others were even missing their limbs. They were accompanied by their machineguns, most of them hidden almost entirely below the red surface of the puddles. Some of the recognizable infantry helmets had been tossed to the ground, half filled up with rain and blood, and the traditional ShinRa swords spoke of SOLDIERs among the dead, some of their blades broken in half.

She couldn't spot any SOLDIERs, however, and was somewhat relieved because of it. There were two of them in particular that she knew she would recognize should she come across them.

Walking in-between the bodies, careful steps making sure not to come in contact with anyone, she scanned them for any sign of life. There were so many of them to check, so she wasn't very thorough, but there was no movement, no sound, no nothing. As far as she could tell, they were all dead, or at the very least unconscious and dying.

She realized then how much work they truly had cut out for them. They couldn't simply drop a bomb and watch everything burn, what with Midgar watching them nearby in the distance. They would have to pick everyone up by their arms and legs and transport them somewhere else where they were allowed to do their job in private. And it had to be done now, before someone accidentally came across it. She didn't know what kind of lie would explain a scene like this. The only reasonable solution she could come up with to deal with a possible witness was a bullet to the head, and that was never something she took pride in.

Sometimes she really hated being a Turk. She would never admit to it, of course, but it was at days like these she had trouble coming home to her apartment and sit down to have dinner.

Seeing something up ahead, a cold feeling instantly twisted her gut. She walked towards the ledge of the cliff she currently found herself on, not caring that she stepped in blood and puddles as she did. It looked like...

Closing in on the body, she quickly had to surrender to the fact that she knew this man. He was different from everyone else here, because she had been sent out to track him down. He was different from the others because she recognized his face and she knew his name. She had met his parents and she felt their loss. He was different because...

He was different because he was her friend. He had_ been_ her friend.

She had come here to make sure _this_ wouldn't happen. She had been sent out to retrieve him and to make sure Tseng could deliver him all those letters he had saved up over the years. She knew they were from that girl he used to spend so much time with when he was still with SOLDIER. The last remaining Cetra, Aerith. She wondered if she would ever be told of his death, or if ShinRa would cover that up as well, along with everything else they had swept under the rug over the years.

She had come here to prevent all that, but she had failed. She had been too late, and as a result of that Zack Fair lay dead at her feet.

Looking at his lifeless form, a sickening contrast to the spirited energy he normally emitted, Cissnei felt her throat contracting in protest. There were tears threatening to surface in her eyes, and she blinked furiously to hold them back. She had to remain in control. She had to be professional about this, because it was dangerous to become personally involved. She knew this. It wasn't really her fault. She knew the odds were against them the moment Tseng had ordered her to find him. Running from a company like ShinRa, there was only so much they could have done for him. She knew this. She knew it wasn't her fault.

But she was unable to tear her gaze away from him.

His slaughtered body was riddled with bullets, a dozen or more so torn holes on the chest of his SOLDIER uniform evidence of that. His eyes were closed and there were several cuts and bruises blemishing his handsome face, dried blood covering a large part of the its left side. His black, spiky hair clung uncharacteristically to his temple, the blood there still somewhat wet and sticky. He was lying in a large pool of his own blood. She knew most of it was most likely water, but the color of it was such a deep and intense red she couldn't help but think otherwise.

In spite of all this, his expression was calm and serene. His features were relaxed and there even appeared to be a small smile on his face. Hunted down and shot dead he looked – strangely enough – content.

She suspected she knew the reason. He had never wanted to get caught; not even by them, even if they had promised to bring him in unharmed. He had never wanted to get dragged back to that awful lab, where he had been kept for four whole years, enduring the kind of experiments she didn't even dare to think of. Zack had treasured his freedom, even to the point where he had chosen death to be able to hold on to it.

And here she was, about to drag his broken body right back. She felt sick. She wanted to bend over and throw up until the feeling disappeared completely. Because no matter how many times she tried to swallow it back down, it wouldn't go away.

"Cissnei?" a loud voice suddenly erupted in her ear, a harsh buzzing noise following it. "Yo, anything on your end?"

Her eyes still glued to the body, she said nothing.

"Cissnei?" Reno insisted. "You there?"

There was silence for a few seconds, the male Turk waiting for her response. "Pick up, yo!" his voice came back. "Gotta keep in touch with the crew, you kno-"

Tearing off her headset, Cissnei threw it to the ground. It landed in the large pool of blood, a couple of feet to the left of Zack's body. It wasn't long before the buzzing sound of the voice went completely silent.

She grabbed a hold of her helmet with both hands, lifting it above her to pull it down over her head. Fidgeting nervously with her hands, Cissnei rubbed them against her thighs, feeling the wet fabric of her pants against her fingertips, peeking out through the leather gloves.

She knew they would be trying her cell phone next. She knew that if she didn't answer they would trace her signal and pin her down. She knew that duty was calling.

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Tseng gnawed absentmindedly on the inside of his cheek, trying to close his teeth over a loose piece of flimsy skin. It was a bad habit of his, one he thought he had kicked years ago. But at stressful times like these it would occasionally surface to make a guest appearance. It was also at times like these that he missed being out on the field. Sitting in the solitude of his orderly office, behind a desk like this, he felt terribly useless. It would take some getting used to, he suspected.

All he really had to work with was his phone. His Turks reported to him on a regular basis, but he still felt like he was working somewhat in the dark. They had been searching for months now, and ever since the targets were reported heading towards Midgar they had been working nonstop.

He felt slightly cold referring to the ex SOLDIER as such: "the target". But it was a cold situation. Zack had – along with the infantryman – escaped the lab, and it was their duty to bring them back. He belonged to the company still, and even though the tragic fate of the young SOLDIER tore at his guilt, Tseng had never kept that from doing his job. All he could hope for now was that they found him before the army did. At least then he would be able to hand over his eighty-eight letters, like he had promised Aerith he would.

It had been a while now since she had given him a letter. Perhaps she had gotten tired of writing them, not getting an answer of any sort in return? He didn't have it in him to ask her, not that it bothered him that she had stopped handing him those letters. It pained him every time she had, because he had known where Zack was. He had known ever since the very first of those eighty-eight letters had been handed over to him. He had known better than anyone why Zack wasn't writing her back. Of course, that wasn't something he could tell her. So he kept a straight face and promised her he would deliver the letters.

He had contemplated simply telling her he had died. The thought had crossed his mind several times, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She always spoke fondly of Zack whenever the subject came up, and he knew she would be heartbroken at the news of his death. He didn't think he could take that. He cared more for the girl than he would ever admit, and it took a lot of energy out of him to remain professional and neutral around her. If she broke down in tears, he wasn't sure he would be able to successfully keep that up.

His cell phone suddenly vibrated against the mahogany surface of the desk, pulling him out of his thoughts. The tiny device managed to spin a half circle before he leaned over in his chair – the leather protesting at the movement – and picked it up.

"Tseng?" Cissnei. Her voice sounded distressed, where she rarely addressed him by name over the phone.

"Yes."

"I found him."

His heart skipped a beat at the news. "Where are you?" he asked, immediately reaching for his pen, holding it ready over the striped pad that was placed in front of him "Give me your coordinates."

It was silent for a moment on the other end, and he feared he already knew the reason for her hesitation. Finally, the answer came, "It doesn't matter." Another pause. "We were too late."

Tseng loosened his hold on the pen, leaning back slightly in the chair, feeling its balance shift in synch with him. "He's dead?" he asked, wanting to hear it officially.

"They're all dead. Everyone."

He took a few quiet breaths before fastening his hold on the pen, pulling the pad closer to him. "I still need your coordinates. I will send someone to clean up." There was nothing more they could do for Zack now, or the other target. And it wasn't for the sake of not trying.

"He's not here anymore," Cissnei revealed briskly.

"What?" Tseng questioned, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows touching the surface of the table. "What do you mean he's not there?"

There was more hesitation on her end. "I'm saying... I took care of it."

His heart sunk to his stomach, feeling like a chunk of ice. He knew she had always gotten along well with Zack. They were around the same age and for a while there he had even feared she would get involved with the young flirt. She had been smart enough not to, but it was obvious she cared for him, and he had a good idea of where her last motorcycle had gone when they had been searching for him. But she couldn't possible have...

"Cissnei-"

"I will text you the coordinates so you can clean this up, but you won't find him here," she interrupted, her voice holding a kind of determination that left him afraid.

"What did you do?" he finally managed to ask, his fear seeping through in his words.

"It doesn't matter," she said, her tone lower. "I... It was a matter of duty."

"Cissnei, by going against direct orders..." he trailed off, knowing what he had to say next, but unwilling to finish his sentence. She knew very well what she had done, and she knew what kind of position it left him in. He gently put down the pen on the pad, raising his hand up between his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm well aware of the consequences," she told him, her voice low and even. It sounded as if this was something she had come to grips with already.

He let out a deep sigh, frowning at her words. "Cissnei..."

"Sir," she began, her initial nervousness from when she had first called him almost completely blown away. "You and I both know Zack deserved better than to die out here like this, only to have his battered body be put through even more experiments at the hands of ShinRa."

"I agree," he said, releasing his hold on the bridge of his nose, letting his hand fall back to the desk. "However, that is not up to us to decide. Tell me where he is."

"I'm sorry... Sir," came her deflated response. "He's... I'm sorry."

They were both quiet after that, and the silence weighed heavy on his shoulders. A hundred different thoughts barged in on his mind, and he couldn't seem to grab a hold of a single one. Even so, he knew perfectly well where this left the two of them.

"I'll hang up now, and I'll text you the coordinates like I promised," she said, her voice almost down to a whisper.

Tseng closed his eyes, struggling what to do or say next. Cissnei had spoken of duty, and she had chosen Zack over her job. _Now_ look at them. The roles were reversed; Zack Fair was dead and _she_ was the deserter. The kind of knowledge and information she had on the company... They would never stop chasing her. Like Zack, the army would hunt her down and eliminate her. They would erase the fact that she had even existed. What was worse, he would have to be in charge of leading that manhunt. He would have to make sure her betrayal was dealt with. That was _his_ duty.

"I'll have a chopper out of here in half an hour," Tseng spoke gravely, hesitating for several moments before he went on. "This will be the last time you contact me."

"...Understood," came her belated reply.

He was about to hang up when she unexpectedly interrupted him, "It's been an honor working with you... Sir."

There was a warmth in her tone he had rarely heard her express and before he got the chance to respond, the line went dead. He flapped his phone shut and put it down to the desk. The word 'duty' kept echoing in his mind, because he knew where his duty lay, and he was sure his Turks knew, as well. It had never been spoken between them, nonetheless it had always been there. His duty.

The phone suddenly vibrated again on the desk, his eyes snapping down to stare at it. He grabbed a firm hold of it, reading the alert on the display.

It was a text message.

He flapped it open to find the coordinates inside, just like she had promised. Half an hour was not much, but Cissnei was anything but incompetent; she would make good use of those extra thirty minutes. It would give her a great head start, and hopefully that would be enough.

**End**


End file.
